Intermarriage Education

See here for my previous posting on this subject

Parshat Shoftim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

For as far back as I can remember, I have heard rabbis and community leaders utilize catch phrases in public lectures: "We must stem the tide of assimilation!" and "Intermarriage rates are skyrocketing!"

            

Most Jews I have met who grew up in the 1920s and 30s married Jewish and tried to raise Jewish children. Marrying a non-Jew was out of the question – and perhaps in a slightly more bigoted and less-tolerant society the feeling was mutual.

            

Many Jews who grew up in the 40s and 50s were fed similar instructions. But perhaps the emergence of Israel as a state created a human, and even admirable face to the enigma of the Jew, and marrying whomever for love began to become an option.

Nowadays, with intermarriage in the United States being over 50%, many Jewish children grow up hearing, "As long as you love your spouse, as long as you are happy, it doesn't matter to us." More than likely, a number of parents who don't inculcate the need for their children to marry Jewish don't themselves understand why it should be important.

This is not to say any Jewish parents whose child married out did not try very hard to teach their children, nor is it to suggest they are failures. In our society, people choose spouses, often enough without, despite, or deliberately against their parents' input. More couples than I can count have said to me, "I am not happy about my kid's choices. But what can I do? I still love him/her."

Is intermarriage bad?

Not wishing to be judgmental, or to point fingers, let us just say that it is particularly frowned upon in the Talmud (Yevamot 76a, Kiddushin 68b, Avodah Zara 36b) and its commentaries, and most clearly in the words of Maimonides (Laws of Forbidden Relations chapter 12).

The Torah itself says (Devarim 7:3) "Do not marry them, don't give your daughter to his son, nor take his daughter for your son."

In all fairness, one of the Talmudic debates directly addresses the question of whether this verse applies only to the 7 Nations of Canaan, even if they convert, or to all non-Jewish nations who do not convert. Other than people from a few nations that no longer exist, those who convert are no longer subject to the prohibition of this kind of inter-marriage. After all, one who converts is a Jew.

The main reason given for the prohibition, as described by Targum Yonatan, is that a nuptial of this sort paints one as having married (embraced) the other person's gods. While the Talmud in Kiddushin goes back and forth postulating whether a man follows his wife's religion, or whether a woman follows her husband's, all of which has repercussions in defining whether the children of such a union are Jewish (the Talmud's conclusion is that only a Jewish mother bears Jewish children), the verse in 7:3 suggests that either union does not promote the kind of Jewish continuity that our People need. Rabbi S.R. Hirsch has a powerful essay on this point in his Torah commentary on this verse.

The Torah's solid prohibition of intermarriage often comes into question in the context of next week's parsha, in the opening section about the "Yefat To'ar" – the beautiful, sometimes married, woman that an Israelite soldier brings home from the battlefield. (21:11-13) Rashi there says the Torah responds to one's evil inclination.

The problem is exacerbated, however, because the permissive mode comes up elsewhere: in the war with Midyan (Bamidbar 31:9,18) and in our parsha (Devarim 20:13-14). In these cases, the Torah does not seem to be responding to a particular lust – it is saying that the female prisoners of war are now available to you.

            

The Alshich in our parsha couches it all nicely saying the intent is to reflect and change one's ways through utilizing these people in helping one perform commandments.

            

In an article discussing Yefat Toar, Rabbi Michael Rosensweig addressed the question of the Torah's allowing these kinds of unions.

            

His message is quite relevant here.

            

A careful study of the Yefat Toar process affirms the need to "refashion one's emotional response to avoid even sanctioned halachic compromise."  Quoting the Kli Yakar, Rabbi Rosensweig noted that "in order to succeed against the concrete enemy on the battlefield, one must first struggle internally to refine one's halachic values and vanquish the yetzer ha-ra that is accentuated by the passions of battle." The Rabbis spoke of the negative consequences of marrying the Yefat Toar, even if it is a legal union, consequences Rabbi Rosensweig described as coming from "diluted and compromised standards of discipline, restraint, and mutual respect, [which are otherwise] cornerstones of the halachic vision of sanctity in family life."

That the Torah allows these unions specifically as a result of war stands to indicate that even these unions, valid in a specific context, are far from ideal. Suggesting "the Torah allows it and it is therefore OK all the time" is an invalid argument.

There are many people who intermarry who nonetheless agree to raise their children Jewish. I would invite the non-Jewish spouse who is raising Jewish children to consider converting – why not be completely on the same page as your children?

For the sake of the future of our People, while I hope we all bear only friendly will towards our non-Jewish neighbors, coworkers and friends, it behooves us to remind ourselves and our children (and extended family!) that we marry Jews to maintain our heritage and to preserve the best way to serve God according to the dictates of the Torah.

What Yaakov Feared

Last year I addressed the difference between the names Yisrael and Yaakov and their usage in the Torah. I don't know if there is a fool-proof difference between them. In this article, they are used interchangeably simply because the Torah uses them in this fashion in the verses discussed.

Parshat Vayigash

Were one to examine Yisrael's attitude towards going to Egypt, it would be hard to convince us that he was apprehensive about the trip. When he heard Yosef was alive and was convinced by the sight of the wagons that he would be reunited with his favorite son, "His spirit became alive. He said, '... I will go and see him before I die.'" (45:27-28)

And yet, three verses later, after a stopover in Beer Shava to bring offerings to God, Yisrael has a vision in which God tells him, "I am the God of your father. Don't be afraid to go to Egypt, for it is there that I will make you into a great nation. I will go to Egypt with you, and I will also bring you back again..." (46:3-4)

There is no indication that he is afraid of Egypt! What is God talking about?

There are different kinds of fear: fear of the unknown, fear of possible outcomes – especially for one's children, fear of an undesired destination or destiny. One can fear other people, or what the other people might be capable of doing.

Many of the commentators raise the idea that Yaakov was aware that with this journey to Egypt the years of bondage that Avraham had been promised in Bereishit 15 would commence. The Chizkuni, for example, says that God's words after "Don't be afraid" are to assure Yaakov that just as the bondage element of the promise to Avraham would be fulfilled, so would the exodus and the becoming a great nation promises be fulfilled.

Others focus on the fears Yaakov harbored over his and his family's spiritual future. In addition to the fear that he was beginning the exile that had been promised to Avraham, Or HaChaim also mentions Yaakov's fear that he'd be buried in the impure land. God's immediate response is the promise that he personally would not be enslaved, nor buried there. "Perhaps Yaakov had designs on going back to Canaan when the famine was over and the trouble passed… this is why he is told not to fear 'for even the relatively short amount of time you think you're going to be there,' because your family will become a great nation in that place."

Along similar lines, the Beis HaLevi puts Yaakov's fear in terms of his children not being able to be in Egypt and maintain their "kedushah" (holiness). Maybe they'll become so entrenched in the tumah (impurity) of Egypt, they would not be worthy of being redeemed. God therefore told him not to fear, because He would not let them become completely lost, and if need be He would take them out before their time was up.

It is the Seforno, however, who writes what I find to be the most compelling concern. "Don't be afraid to go down to Egypt. Were your children to stay here in Canaan, they would end up marrying the Canaanites and assimilating with them. But in Egypt this will never take place because the Egyptians have their own rules against intermingling with you."

Right after this exchange with God, the Torah lists for us the names of the descendants of Yaakov. The Torah does not tell us much about the wives of the sons of Yaakov. One midrashic thought suggests each of the tribes was born with a twin sister who became a wife to one of the tribes. A different line of thinking posits the wives were Canaanite women who embraced the ways of the family of Yaakov – and listing his children here (46:5-27) would alleviate the fear of a family breakdown as it would serve as a strong indicator that this family unit will remain intact.

If the latter approach is correct, moving the family to Egypt, away from Canaanite grandparents and relatives might actually be the best thing to happen to Yaakov and his family. Creating their own homogeneous environment that will not be influenced by "distance relatives" or Egypt's "live and let live, but we will not mingle with you" attitude could, in the end, become the strongest bond in the effort to stem a tide of assimilation and have everyone in the family remain close-by-design in the Goshen area they will soon occupy.

Consider this statistic: by 1927 (14 years into the Weimar Republic), more than 44% of Jews in Germany married non-Jews (Martin Gilbert, "Final Journey" p.11). (The Nazis counted them all as Jews anyway, but nonetheless, it is a staggering number for early 20^th century stats, versus current US figures where the number wavers in the 50-plus percent range.)

Being in a place like Egypt, therefore, where Egyptian law allowed for engaging in commerce and neighborliness but prohibited assimilating with the Hebrews – wining, dining, and marrying – was a reminder Yaakov desperately needed, and an answer that assuaged his number one fear.

The fear of the silent destruction brought on by the loving environment of assimilation is one Yaakov did not need to express. It is constantly in the mind of every parent, and was Avraham's first concern when he was promised the land (see Seforno, Bereishit 15:8).

Universal Brotherhood = Marrying In

This can also be read in the Jewish Star

Parshat Matot-Masei

Without getting into particulars (I’ll leave you to look up the details), the Zohar on Parshat Matot uses the aftermath of the war with Midian as a springboard to speak negatively of intermarriage.

Of course, this is not a new discussion — from the Pinchas story and other sources in the Bible, it is quite clear that members of the Israelite nation should be marrying other Israelites, which translates to modern-day intra-marriage.

While those who choose to adopt or maintain an Orthodox lifestyle are not typically confronted with a challenge to this mindset, there are exceptions to the rule. Additionally, the society in which we find ourselves increasingly encourages some form of assimilation and an overall tolerance of others.

Meshuggenehs and radical extremists not withstanding.

And so, it comes as no shock that the concept of Jews not dating outside of the fold is often viewed as being anti-American, anti-harmony, arrogant and racist.

To put it in the form of a question — as Joseph Telushkin and Dennis Prager put it at the end of “Question 8” in “The Nine Questions People Ask About Judaism” — doesn’t Judaism believe in universal brotherhood?

Those who have been praying that one who is “Oseh shalom bimromav” should grant us peace and harmony know very well that a motto of Judaism vis-à-vis the rest of the world is “can’t we learn to get along?” We all have a few bad apples to our millions of wonderful people. Let’s stop pointing fingers and just live in harmony.

Telushkin and Prager write:

“Is the assimilation of the minority of Jews into majority cultures the answer? Is abandoning Judaism the answer? What sort of universalism demands that smaller groups give up their identities?… The only way to achieve brotherhood is through all people sharing moral values, while retaining ethnic diversity… [asking people to reconsider intermarrying] has nothing to do with negative feelings toward non-Jews, or with automatically positive feelings towards those born as Jews. It is based solely on our commitment to the survival of Jewry…”

Along similar lines, in a sermon Rabbi Norman Lamm delivered around Purim time in 1966, he said

“Loyal Jews are opposed to intermarriage — not because we are narrowminded, and not, most certainly, because of contempt for the non-Jew. We want to marry within our own group because of our desire to remain different, to preserve our different identity, to survive and flourish with our own character intact.”

While the story that follows the Midian war is complex, the fine line we are distinguishing is not. It becomes a matter of whether we appreciate where we come from, and how much we want to preserve our future as a unique and distinct people.

Several years ago, I served as a mohel for an intermarried couple, where the mother of the baby was the Jewish partner in the marriage. Her aunt, who arranged the bris, suggested I tone down the religious side because her new-mom niece had told her “That’s why I married out” — to get away from this component of Judaism. Ironically, her non-Jewish husband was more into the bris than she was, more Biblically well-read, and was extremely proud their son was named “Aharon Moshe.”

One person on my college dormitory floor taped a letter on his door that was written by a single woman to a New York magazine whose gist was this (I am quoting from memory):

“I have heard that Orthodox Jewish men truly court a woman before marrying her, because their religion does not allow them even to touch her or hold her hand before marriage. What a thought! To connect with someone emotionally first before the physical component is brought into the picture! Why can’t I ever meet someone like that?"

Because, madam, you have not committed yourself to a system that has worked well for thousands of years. If you choose to join us because you like our rules so much, and will commit yourself to living by these rules, we will welcome you with open arms (but only our wonderful women and your husband will physically embrace you).

For the sake of the preservation of our ranks, we must do all we can to teach our children, family and friends that marrying in is not just something we do “because” or “to fulfill a Torah law.” We do it to perpetuate the strong values that are unique to our experience, which was always meant to focus on how to preserve the holiness of the marital bond in an environment that is most fitting for the raising of our o-so-precious little Jewish souls, a.k.a. our children.